


Date

by enigmaticagentscully



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticagentscully/pseuds/enigmaticagentscully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why it's important to always bring a book with you on a first date, just in case.</p>
<p>Modern AU, shamless Cassandra/Varric fluff.</p>
<p>(alternative title: 'I saw a prompt on Tumblr, and then this happened')</p>
            </blockquote>





	Date

It was not the _worst_ night of her life by a long way, Cassandra thought darkly, but it was probably going to make it into the top ten.

The night her parents were taken away. The night she got the call about Regalyan. The night her brother...

She stopped the depressing train of thought quickly. Considering the competition, this situation really wasn’t so awful. She could take a little humiliation. Or a lot of it.

The restaurant was pretty crowded, it being a Friday night, and their table was right in the middle of the room. Or rather, _her_ table, since the man she was supposed to be meeting had not actually turned up. The flickering candles, warm chatter and soft music wafting through the open doors from the patio were charms that were completely lost on Cassandra, sitting ramrod straight in her chair in a tiny private world of mortification. At ten minutes past seven she had been annoyed, at twenty past she had been worried, and now at eight o’clock she was furious. And miserable. She was acutely aware of the sympathetic looks she was drawing from the tables around her, and the brittle nervous politeness of the poor waitress who had been assigned her table for the evening and was obviously anticipating going home without a much of a tip to show for her night’s work. She had spotted a couple of older men at the next table clearly talking about her earlier, and a pretty young woman in an exuberant party at a nearby booth kept shooting her understanding smiles.

Cassandra wasn’t even sure what was keeping her here now. At first it had been hope, now it was a strange mixture of embarrassment and sheer stubbornness.

With her work she hadn’t a lot of time for socialising and the men she met were more often intimidated by her than attracted, but this one had seemed so...genuinely _nice._ At the least he was clearly interested in her. But now...not even a phone call.

At ten past eight she cracked, ordered a glass of cheap wine, pulled her book from her bag and started to read it. She vaguely remembered Leliana telling her that to bring a book with her on a first date was a terribly pessimistic thing to do, and felt a small irrational twinge of satisfaction at being proven right. At least the book kept her from having to avoid the stares of her fellow diners. It was the latest _Hard In Hightown_ by Varric Tethras; not exactly the most highbrow of literature, but thank godness she hadn’t brought _Swords and Shields_ with her. Sitting alone in an expensive restaurant with only a glass of wine and a romance novel for company was a line she was not willing to cross.

There was admittedly an element of bravado to her reading, putting on a show for the gawpers, but the book was a favourite and she was getting genuinely engrossed in the story almost enough to forget her surroundings, when a loud voice broke her reverie:

“Oh thank god you haven’t left! I’m so sorry!”

She shoved her book to the side and her head snapped up, startled and furious – surely he couldn’t possibly have shown up after all this—

But it wasn’t him. It was, in fact, a complete stranger. A fairly attractive broad-shouldered man, about her own age, wearing an expensive looking shirt and an expression of utterly sincere contrition.

He slid into the seat opposite her and grasped her hands briefly in his.

“Please forgive me,” he said, ignoring her baffled stare. “My brother had another fit and I had to go with him to hospital and make sure he was okay...I would have called but I left my phone behind in the rush...I came straight here...”

He released her hands and placed his own together in a gesture of exaggerated pleading. “I am so very, very sorry. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. Please say you’ll forgive me?”

He stared into her eyes beseechingly, and Cassandra was suddenly aware of a slight hush in conversation nearby. Whatever this strange man’s motivation, his dramatics had attracted a small audience. Completely wrong-footed and unwilling to make even more a spectacle of herself, she nodded slowly.

“Of course,” she said. “Don’t give it another thought.”

The man opposite her beamed as if she had granted him a last minute stay of execution.

“Waitress!” he cried, and the woman in question appeared next to him almost immediately – unsurprising, as Cassandra had spotted her nearby, eavesdropping for all she was worth.

“Please bring us the menu and a bottle of the best wine in the place,” said the strange man, still grinning. “This lady deserves it.”

“Right away sir,” said the waitress, and flashed Cassandra a cheery smile as she hurried off. The noise level was returning back to normal, and the diners at nearby tables turned back to their own companions, satisfied that the drama was over for the evening. Quite a few of them wore indulgent smiles – everyone liked a happy ending.

Cassandra leaned across the table, keeping her expression carefully blank. “Who are you and what in the name of all that is holy do you think you are _doing_?” she hissed.

“Call it my good deed for the day,” said the man, unabashed. “Or at least a deed, anyway. My friend Merrill over at the booth texted me regarding your plight, and I thought I might step in.” He jerked his thumb unobtrusively to the young woman at the booth Cassandra had noticed earlier, who quickly looked away, blushing slightly when she made eye contact.

“I was late for dinner anyway,” continued the man. “And it looked like you needed me more than my friends did. I’m Varric, by the way. Varric Tethras.”

Cassandra gaped at him, astounded by his extraordinary casual presumption. “Cassandra Pentaghast,” she replied, her mouth working on automatic.

“Good name. I’d shake your hand, but that’d be a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”

“I...” Cassandra’s mind suddenly caught up with the last few seconds. “Wait, Varric Tethras the author?”

“In the flesh,” grinned Varric. He gestured to the book still lying on the side of the table. “Thanks for buying my book. Unless you borrowed it, in which case congratulations on supporting your local library.”

“You’re completely insane,” said Cassandra flatly.

Varric shrugged. “You’re not the first to say it and you won’t the last.” His expression softened slightly. “Look, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I figured I could save you some embarrassment and you could at least get a free dinner out of the evening. If you like we can make some excuse and get out of here and you’ll be shot of me. It’s up to you.”

“But then...you’d have to leave too,” said Cassandra. “You’d miss dinner with your friends.”

“There’ll be other dinners.”

He regarded her questioningly, and Cassandra made up her mind.

“Stay,” she said firmly. “We’re both here now. But you are not paying for dinner. I will.”

“Fair enough.” He flashed her another disarming grin, and Cassandra felt the corners of her own lips twitch in return.

The waitress returned with the wine and the menus, and the evening progressed...as well as could be expected. Better, actually. In spite of her decision to make the best of things, at first Cassandra still couldn’t help but feel confused and slightly suspicious of Varric’s motivations. Was he really such a confident person that he would simply waltz in to take another man’s place with a random woman who had been stood up? Did he assume that she would...but then, he didn’t seem to be assuming anything. He _had_ offered to leave after all, had seemed completely willing to sacrifice his own evening just to salvage what was left of hers. What he had done was simultaneously the most arrogant and the most generous thing she had ever seen.

Cassandra had to admit he had made an impression. Dinner with one of her favourite authors wasn’t something to be lightly turned down, and as the night went on she felt more and more glad that hadn’t done so. Varric was good company; they talked about his books of course, but they also ended up talking about food, politics, her country, his friends...he had a seemingly endless supply of anecdotes so absurd that either he was greatly prone to exaggeration, or his immediate group of friends were all just as impulsive and ridiculous as he was. Possibly both. Cassandra didn’t care what the truth was when his stories had her laughing so hard she felt the tears gather at the corners of her eyes.

Speaking of his friends, she had half expected him to leave when they did, but instead when they had finished their meal they walked out without a second glance at the pair of them. With the exception of the curvy dark skinned woman who winked at her so quickly as she passed their table that Cassandra wondered if she had imagined it. Varric didn’t even seem to notice them go.

Cassandra found to her great surprise that was enjoying herself more than she had for a very long time. Her companion had a natural gift for easy conversation that she herself had always lacked, drawing her into debate on any and all subjects. She ended up ranting about one of the characters in his books for a good ten minutes while he listened intently, never trying to interrupt. He was charming and witty and he...well he almost reminded her of Regalyan, in a way. The same kind of cheery, careless good humour, the same easy smile. Still, despite Varric’s strange entrance, there was a seriousness underneath to him that Galyan had never had – something that reminded her of the more sober parts of his books, the moments of genuine thoughtfulness and gravity that he occasionally slipped in amongst the swordfights and swashbuckling. Perhaps it was simply that he was older. She was too, now. Galyan had been a long time ago.

Varric was very attractive too. Not that it mattered of course, since this wasn’t an actual date, but the fact was not lost on her. He had a warm voice and sharp, intelligent eyes. His shirt was open several buttons at the collar, and after a few glasses of extremely expensive wine Cassandra had to consciously drag her eyes back up to his face more than once. In spite of the dress she was wearing – which Leliana had chosen for her – she never caught him doing the same. She wasn’t sure if she was grateful or vaguely disappointed by that.

When they left the restaurant hours later they walked back to Cassandra’s apartment building together by unspoken agreement, still lost in animated conversation. They had split the bill in the end, and forgone the taxis waiting in a neat row outside to stroll along the sidewalk, the summer air still warm even after night had fallen.

Cassandra couldn’t remember if Varric had mentioned where he lived, or if it was even vaguely in the same direction as her own place, but she didn’t think on it for too long. She didn’t want this time with him to end. Something of the strangeness of the evening had rubbed off on her, and she felt light and slightly giddy, freer than she would ever usually be with someone she didn’t know well. The lampposts glittered in the dark and her heels clattered against the sidewalk and Varric’s arms curved through the night air as he gesticulated his way through another of his wild stories.

“Oh.” She stopped suddenly.

Varric paused mid sentence and turned to face her. “Something wrong?” he said.

“No, just...this is me. Where I live.” She gestured to the apartment building. They had nearly walked past it.

“Oh, right.”

Standing there in front of the building, an awkward silence blossomed between them for the first time since Varric had introduced himself. Cassandra silently cursed her inability to ever find the right words in important situations, and cursed the man in front of her too for apparently losing his glib tongue at the worst possible moment.

She cleared her throat. “I...well...” She gave up. “Thank you Varric,” she said, a touch more formally than she would have liked. “For a lovely evening. Even if it was not the one I expected. I would advise you against doing such an absurd thing again, but I am glad you did.”

Varric grinned. “So am I,” he said.

“Goodnight then,” Cassandra said, and turned to walk up the steps to her apartment building. Her hand was on the door handle when, to her overwhelming relief, Varric spoke again:

“Er...Cassandra?”

She released the handle, turned and raised a questioning eyebrow. Varric was still standing there, shuffling his feet slightly and looking uncharacteristically self conscious.

“Look,” he said, “despite popular opinion, I’m not actually very good at this sort of thing, so I’m going to just level with you, ok?” He gave a nervous chuckle. “The truth is, Merrill texted me and told me there was a lady sitting alone and reading one of my books in the restaurant where I was waiting, and could I maybe go and cheer her up when I got there.”

Cassandra felt her cheeks grow slightly warm at the memory, the humiliation at the start of the evening that seemed so long ago now.

“But when I saw you,” Varric continued, “I just...I don’t know, I think my sense of drama got the better of me. It does that sometimes. It was an impulse thing and I’m sort of surprised you went along with it, to tell you the truth.”

Cassandra regretted now that she was standing in the well lit doorway, because she was sure she was now blushing furiously. God, was he trying to let her down gently, telling her that she had taken things too far and got the wrong idea? She opened her mouth to speak but forgot what she was going to say when he walked up to join her on the top of the steps and she saw his own face was just as red as her own.

“What I’m trying to say,” he sighed, “Is that I had a hell of a good time this evening and if that’s what a fake date with you is like then I’d love to see what a real one. The ass who stood you up has no idea what he’s missing.”

“Oh,” said Cassandra. It wasn’t the most intelligent of responses, but Varric was standing very close and her heart was beating very fast and he...was asking her out. Strangely enough, at the end of their date.

“So is there a chance I could see you again?” said Varric. “I’ll give you a peek at my new _Swords and Shields_ , if you like.” He winced slightly. “Ok, that sounded much less like an innuendo when I said it in my head.”

Cassandra laughed. “I’d love to,” she said.

A broad smile spread across Varric’s face. He pulled a pen and notepad from his pocket and quickly scribbled a phone number on it. “Authors are always prepared,” he explained with a wink. “Call me when you get the chance and let me know when you’re free, okay?” He flashed her a disarming grin. “And if I see this number for sale on eBay tomorrow I’ll be very upset, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“No, we wouldn’t,” smiled Cassandra, and held out her hand for the note.

Varric took her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed it gently. Cassandra felt a jolt of pleasure run through her body, the lightheaded feeling of before so intense it left her almost dizzy.

“I’m very glad to have met you,” Varric murmured, and caught her eyes just long enough for her breath to quicken, and her lips to part slightly of their own accord...

“Goodnight,” he said, and released her hand with his note still held loosely in it.

“Goodnight,” she replied, slightly dazed by the unexpected rush of desire on top of everything else. She had definitely had too much wine.

She watched him walk away until he was swallowed by darkness before turning back to the door and letting herself into the building, a giddy joy swelling in her chest. When she had fumbled her way into her apartment and kicked her shoes off her feet, she curled up in her favourite armchair and stared at the note. Varric’s phone number curled across the page in small neat numbers so unlike their writer’s cheerful exuberance. Cassandra wondered if he ever wrote manuscripts by longhand. She would have to ask him next time they met.

It was the small hours of the morning, she was dog tired and slightly drunk, she had been stood up by the only man who had asked her out in god knows how many years, and she couldn’t stop smiling.

She pinned Varric’s number carefully to her kitchen corkboard before heading to bed.

It was not the _best_ night of her life by a long way, Cassandra thought, but it was definitely going to make it into the top ten.

**Author's Note:**

> I literally saw a prompt this morning, thought out this fic while at work (that company is clearly getting it's money's worth from me yeah) and then transcribed it from my brain as soon as I got home. So forgive me for this totally random AU fluff :P


End file.
